When did I start digging my own grave?
It began a year ago, at the Royal Ball. I stood on the balcony, watching the "noble" guests below. They were filthy—disgusting, really.
Most were power-hungry, the rest were greedy for wealth, and those who lacked the ambition for either were simply blind followers of the Crown. Like my father.
The Regulus family is nearly as wealthy as the royals themselves. We are marked by our white hair and blue eyes. My father and my brother—who is ten years older than me—possess them perfectly. But I was different. My hair was white and my eyes were blue, but my irises were rimmed with gold.
They called me "The Witch" because I refused to be a typical lady. I didn't wear the frilly, "cute" gowns the others favored. I wore pants, or dresses with sharp cuts that the older gossips called scandalous.
While the other young ladies spent their time fantasizing about knights, I felt nothing but boredom. I watched the daughter of House Chariot staring longingly at the knights—or perhaps she was staring at my brother?
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of high-pitched mocking. A group of noble girls were picking on someone. Usually, I wouldn't care; other people's drama wasn't my business. But the girl they were surrounding looked so small... so scared.
Before I realized what I was doing, my legs were moving. I reached them in minutes, my presence casting a chill over the group.
"Hmm... something interesting going on?" I asked. My voice was like ice. I smiled, but it wasn't friendly. It was the smile of a beast that had just found its prey.
I watched the fear bloom in their eyes. It didn't give me pleasure, but I was used to it. That was my reputation, after all.
Then, I looked at her. Pink hair, green eyes... she looked like an angel. The complete opposite of my sharp, cold features.
I stepped forward. "Are you Ishu, the Baroness's daughter? Get up. Crying won't fix anything."
She slowly picked herself up, still sobbing. Her dress was soaked from a drink those ladies had spilled on her—a so-called "accident."
"Th-thank you," she murmured. Her voice was small and sweet.
I looked at her, shaking like a leaf. How pathetic, I thought. I turned to walk away when she spoke again.
"Are you… My Lady?"
"Iris Regulus."
Hearing my name, her eyes widened. I saw the same fear there that I saw in everyone else. What was I thinking when I stepped in? Her expression only disappointed me. But as I started to walk away, she said something that made me pause and rethink my judgment of her.